July 2011

First, thank you for coming to Roslindale, our quiet section of Boston. I am glad you thought enough of our project to come and consider us for a visit. Since the moment you first followed our Twitter account, I was excited and nervous about your visit. Now, on the eve of our scheduled review, I thought it would be fun (especially considering our past conversations where I criticized your rating system while praising your prose and quest for umami as the elusive Delicious), to tell the story about what I went through in anticipation of tomorrow.

So where does a good Southern boy go to summer camp? Cooperstown NY, of course. No, not a baseball prodigy.I was scared of the ball. Beaver Cross was an Episcopal church camp run by the diocese of Albany that is within driving distance of my Oma's summer house in the Adirondacks where we would spend the summer. As I left the Outback with little ambitions for the summer I contacted Deacon Betty and she hired me as kitchen help for the summer. I got room and board, some scratch at the end of the summer, and got to be STAFF at the camp I went to as a kid. What else is there in life?